Bedroom Secrets

“But you’re the best man and Alex is my best friend,” Emily said, as if it was a completely logical deduction. “You have to stand up together.”

“Alex is gay.”

There was a pause then, “So?”

“What do you mean, so? What if people think we’re…together?”

“Alex was right—you are homophobic.”

“I wouldn’t walk down the aisle with any guy: gay, straight or undecided. And what does Mom think about you having a man for a maid of honor?” When she didn’t answer, he laughed. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

“It doesn’t matter what Mom thinks. It’s my wedding.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“Just think about it, okay? Hey, and while I’ve got you on the phone, Matt said there’s a new secretary at the high school. Blond, big breasts, shallow—just the way you like ’em.”

“You’re not winning any points here.”

“I’m just kidding. Matt said she’s very nice. And single. We could double.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you going through some kind of romantic dry spell or something?”

Her question hit home like a dynamite blast, making him wince. Dry spell didn’t begin to describe it. But things would get better. In time, he would be back to his old virile self.

He hoped.

“You know,” Emily said, “if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me about it.”

“There’s nothing wrong.” Nothing a few years of intense psychotherapy wouldn’t cure. No way in hell he could talk to his sister about that.

“Ty, since middle school you’ve always had a girlfriend. Sometimes two or three at a time.”

The outer office door jingled and he silently thanked whoever it was for the interruption. “Hey, someone’s here. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”

“Ty—”

“Say hi to Matt for me. Love you.” He hit the disconnect button and set the phone down. That was a close call, and knowing Emily, he hadn’t heard the last of this. Though they weren’t identical, they were still bound by that cosmic connection twins often have. Depending on the circumstances, that could be a good or a bad thing.

“Hello?” a voice called from the lobby.

A female voice. Damn.

“In here,” Ty called back. He really needed to get a new receptionist to screen his visitors. Preferably an ugly receptionist. Or better yet, a man.

The source of the voice, who appeared in his office a second later, was neither ugly nor male. One look at her dark, inquisitive eyes, flawlessly smooth olive skin, and he instinctively took a step to the left, behind the safety of his desk.

Damn, it was really getting out of control when he couldn’t be in the same room with a beautiful woman without running for cover. Three months ago, he would have met her by the door and taken her hand, simply for the pleasure of testing the softness of her skin. There was a time when he’d loved everything about women. The way they smelled, the way they tasted, the silky softness of their hair.

Now he viewed them as the enemy. And he knew with no small measure of certainty, this woman could push all the right buttons if he let her.

“Are you Tyler Douglas?” she asked.

He pasted on a charming smile. “The one and only. What can I do for you?” Please let it be something quick and painless.

She returned the smile times ten. “Mae sent me over. She said you’re looking for a cleaning lady.”

Oh man, was she beautiful. And so young. He felt like a degenerate for the thoughts tumbling through his depraved brain. Things like the fullness of her breasts cupped into his palms, her slender fingers tunneling through his hair as he plundered her lush mouth with passionate kisses. She would taste sweet and tangy and…and oh man, he needed to stop this right now or he would be sorry. He could already feel the shift in his breathing, the familiar tug in his groin.

She stepped closer and his pulse began to accelerate. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead and his head began to spin.

Relax. Breathe, in and out.

“My name is Tina DeLuca,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. He dreaded the words he knew were coming next. “I’d like the job.”

Two

Brad Pitt, eat your heart out, Tina thought as she tried her best not to stare. They sure knew how to grow them in Chapel, Michigan. For some reason she’d been expecting someone older. Someone not so strikingly handsome or built to complete physical perfection.

Someone who wouldn’t look at her as if…she was a leper.

He retreated a step and waved away her extended hand. “We don’t stand on formality here,” he said.

Oookay.

She let her arm fall to her side. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she clasped them behind her back. She’d never gone on a job interview before and wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette. Since the time she was old enough to have a real job, she’d been taking care of Aunt Louise. Her people skills were a tad rusty.

“Is the position still open?” she asked.

“Yes, but uh, the pay is pretty low.”

It couldn’t be any lower than the nothing she was currently earning. “That’s okay.”

“I mean really low, like minimum wage.”

“Minimum wage works for me.”

He frowned, his blond brow dipping low over his eyes. “It’s really lousy work.”

She tried to keep her voice cheerful when inside her heart was plummeting. Mae had made this sound like a sure thing. If she didn’t get this job, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Where she would go. She had no place to stay, no place to sleep. “I like to clean. And I have a lot of experience,” she added.

“A pretty girl like you? Wouldn’t you be happier as a model or something?”

A model? Was he kidding? At five foot two and 111 pounds, she wasn’t exactly runway material. “Mr. Douglas—”

“Ty,” he said, then winced, as though revealing his name had been some sort of fatal error. “Everyone around here calls me Ty.”